Could it be that the answers to our most challenging questions are so small that they're brushed off as insignificant?

That in pursuing that bulldozer we think is necessary to knock the door down, we refuse again and again the key that would simply open it.

Why is our first instinct to think our next action needs to be as big or as

glamorous as that intended result?

Again and again, my default has been to, you know, look for some brilliant monumental insight

or some secret answer that would unroll like a scroll containing a treasure map.

But again and again, I learn and I relearn that what I need,

what is required, is so reasonable.

It's so accessible that it almost feels like the universe has a sense of humor, right?

It's sitting back and chuckling while we run around with keys in our pockets looking for a sledgehammer

to break the door down. This is kind of a funny story. So last year I had my first

year old within live event and Evan Carmichael was one of the speakers and after

the event we were talking about YouTube, right?

He says, why don't you swing by?

We'll look at your channel.

We'll see if I can offer any suggestions or pointers.

And I gladly accepted the offer.

And so I showed up later in the evening.

He's got his laptop open.

He's running all these tests, right?

There's graphs and there's charts and comparison tables.

And my first question is, obviously, what are you doing?

...